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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24189871">Intervention</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/feathershollyandgolly/pseuds/feathershollyandgolly'>feathershollyandgolly</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>X-Men (Alternate Timeline Movies)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>13th Century CE, Alternate Universe - Angels, Angst, Eventual Happy Ending, Fallen Angels, Historical Inaccuracy, M/M, Vignette</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-03 00:33:52</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,610</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24189871</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/feathershollyandgolly/pseuds/feathershollyandgolly</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Charles doesn’t know what to make of it. Angels are not supposed to love like this. Not supposed to desire anything so flawed and fleeting.</p><p><em> But Erik has a beautiful soul. </em> He shakes the thought off.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Erik Lehnsherr/Charles Xavier</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>42</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Cast</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/hllfire/gifts">hllfire</a>, <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Akasanata/gifts">Akasanata</a>, <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/iwillstayalive/gifts">iwillstayalive</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Special thanks to <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/hllfire"> hellfre</a>, <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Akasanata"> akasanata </a> and <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/iwillstayalive"> kindaresiliant/iwillstayalive</a> with all of their encouragement on this! </p><p>The angel stuff is more secular than anything but I do name some Abrahamic Archangels just fyi this isn't really based on a specific religion (And yes I did use a scientific creationist approach because Charles is a genetics professor dammit)</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>He has never rebelled against Heaven. Not the skies that sing gold and spill silver raindrops upon the land. Not the eyes of shining glory that gaze lovingly upon the creations below.</p><p>They call him naive.</p><p>Maybe it is because, while he is almost as old as the Archangels, he has only experienced the dealings of Heaven so far. Perhaps because he has never been sent to Earth before. An angel of knowledge without wisdom, studying the evolution of life. He was born with the purpose to love imbued in him.</p><p>Lucifer was shot down for despising humanity.</p><p>Surely, <em>surely, </em>the same would not happen to Charles.</p><p>-</p><p>In spite of the warnings from his siblings, Charles decides to investigate the lone hiker.</p><p><em>Humans are dangerous, </em>they had said before Charles started his trip to Earth.</p><p>Charles disagrees. They are but another life form, built in the image of a higher power. As an angel of knowledge, Charles is obligated to learn everything he can. So he takes a human form and approaches the man.</p><p>-</p><p>Erik radiates a knowledge given to him long before he was supposed to possess it. He eyes the world with suspicion and shifts in and out of society on a whim. He is looking for something.</p><p>That is where it starts. With a trek through the looming Alps, Charles distracted from searching for an elusive herd of goats. With sharing a small meal with a stranger.</p><p>“I don’t need any,” says Charles, looking quite human.</p><p>“It’s freezing out here. An empty stomach isn’t good in the winter,” replies Erik.</p><p>Charles takes as little food as possible, even as Erik insists. The second their hands brush as the bread is passed, it hits him. Erik is a loner, but he is not unkind. He has not yet forgotten the kindness of strangers.</p><p>It is that small hope among a stained past that makes Charles want to reach out. To admire that strength that stands alongside pain.</p><p>They exchange very few words before Erik leaves on his quest. Charles would be disappointed, if he didn’t suspect that they’d be meeting again.</p><p>-</p><p>Charles is the shopkeep that hands Erik leftovers for free. He is the passing deer. He is the smith leaving weapons out to allow them to ‘mysteriously’ vanish in the night. He is the swift following above. He is the bartender that hands Erik an extra drink, on the house.</p><p>It’s exciting, to be ever-evolving, ever-changing. Charles, first and foremost, had come to Earth to learn about biodiversity, after all. How the world adapts on its own, naturally selected without so much as a push from Heaven aside from the starting nudge.</p><p>That’s what Charles tries to tell himself, at least.</p><p>-</p><p>He wears so many faces he almost forgets his default shape. But Erik cannot catch him for who he is, or he will never be able to see the man again.</p><p>-</p><p>Charles finds Erik battling torrents and chasing ghosts. Thunder roars as the vessel Erik so desperately follows vanishes into the curve of the next wave. It’s fury, revenge, everything a mortal life would want that Charles doesn’t understand.</p><p>One day it will stop mattering in the eyes of the grander infinity. But this—this sign of the temporary—is what makes him stop and listen. Hear the call of Erik’s sharp mind.</p><p>Charles dives without thinking. The sky illuminates.</p><p>He catches a glimpse of light brown hair in the water. Churning, battering, the ocean protests and the stinging wind pushes him away.</p><p>He reaches with fingers outstretched. The vortex pulls back, screaming to claim its victim.</p><p>-</p><p>Charles, holding Erik tight to his chest, feels the quiet, steady pulse of the man’s heartbeat. Since they first met, Charles has passed Erik many times on his journey, but this is the first time he has intervened like this. The first time they are truly close enough to touch.</p><p>In that instance of connection, he sees everything. Knows far more than he would with just a glance.</p><p>He sees everything, and he sees <em>good</em>.</p><p>Charles doesn’t know what to make of it. Angels are not supposed to love like this. Not supposed to desire anything so flawed and fleeting.</p><p><em>But Erik has a beautiful soul</em>. He shakes the thought off.</p><p>-</p><p>Charles brings Erik to the shore, in which the local villagers soon find him.</p><p>“He almost drowned,” explains Charles, wearing the face of a stranger. “We must get him medical help immediately.”</p><p>The villagers nod along and help bring Erik inside where it was warmer.</p><p>Charles stands outside, watching as a golden light flickers within the village doctor’s home. Watching as concerned strangers care for a man they do not know. Erik sleeps, but his heart is strong. His spirit is powerful.</p><p><em>Oh, forgive me, but I do not know what to make of this, </em>Charles thinks.</p><p>He knows, of course, that he is heard.</p><p>-</p><p>The Archangels are displeased, of course. It isn’t the direct disobeying of orders, but the action when no orders were given.</p><p>Charles is pulled to Heaven for what he fears may be the last time.</p><p>-</p><p>“He was fated to die,” says Gabriel, scowling. “You interfered directly with the mortality of a human.”</p><p>Charles tries to look anywhere but where he should, but his true form is all-seeing. He cannot avoid this. The white marble arches of the cavernous room glare down. They are replaced with great Redwoods. Replaced with slabs of stone. Replaced with mountains.</p><p>The council is everywhere and nowhere, just as Heaven is. He has nowhere left to run.</p><p>“I know that I was not sent to guard,” Charles finally mutters. “But he…”</p><p>“Humans die all of the time,” Michael cuts in. “You are far newer to Earth than we, but you will soon see that this event is nothing out of the ordinary. You cannot save everyone.”</p><p>“And it was never your assignment in the first place,” says Gabriel.</p><p>“I must protest,” says Charles. “He was fighting a just cause.”</p><p>Michael narrows his eyes. He knows, realizes Charles. He will say it in front of the council without subtlety nor care.</p><p>“You like this human,” says Michael. “More than you would have another.”</p><p>Charles shakes his head. “Not at all. I just happened to pass by.”</p><p>“No you haven’t. Ever since you spotted him chasing after those who had wronged him, you’ve been observing his movements.”</p><p>Charles averts his gaze in shame. He cannot lie.</p><p>-</p><p>The result of this judgement is obvious, before Charles even has to hear it. It was not unfair, simply unkind. Pragmatic.</p><p><em>He will do this again, </em>they say. <em>We cannot trust his wonderment with humanity. He will bend to their whims. Intervene too much.</em></p><p>Charles closes his eyes and prepares for the worst.</p><p>-</p><p>They tear his wings out without mercy. Rip bone from skin and send gleaming auburn feathers scattering into the ether. Weep without sadness. Think without compassion.</p><p>They chide him for his naivety, smiling mirthlessly at the crimson that begins to stain because he shouldn’t be able to bleed, but he does.</p><p>Reverberating cries of agony, almost like singing, die into an ugly, <em>human </em>howl.</p><p>That night, scattered stars fall to the Earth.</p><p>Those below who bear witness call it beautiful.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Reception</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>“They call me Erik,” Erik finally says.</p><p>“Charles,” says the man, smiling.</p><p>“It’s nice to meet you, Charles.”</p><p>And the name somehow fits perfectly on Erik’s tongue. Faintly, he tastes the salty sting of ocean air. He doesn’t know why.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>SORRY FOR THE WAIT </p><p>Wow did this end up being Way longer than I expected! Thank you so much to everyone who supported me while I wrote this :D</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>There is something restless about that night.</p><p>Erik tosses and turns, burdened with sleeplessness he hasn’t had in years. He forces his eyes closed, drenched in a cold sweat, and knowing the moon will only hang in the sky for so long. He still has to save his strength.</p><p>A thump echoes from outside. Erik jolts upright. He waits in the stagnant quiet, listening for another and hoping he is imagining things.</p><p>The front door creaks under the weight of yet another thump. Dammit.</p><p>Erik pulls himself out of bed and into the darkness, trying to fight the constant pressure in his chest. He stumbles across the room. Passes the already low flame in the hearth, and the boarded window he hasn’t had the time to fix. And he’s still drowning, after years of staying afloat.</p><p>He puts a hand on the door handle, iron cool to the touch, and flings it open. Something falls to the floor with a resounding thud.</p><p>He instantly recoils.</p><p>In the pale evening light, he sees the outline of a man. Shoulder blades jutting, almost unnaturally. Skin ripped almost to the bone. The metallic scent of blood fills the air, pouring between the crags of the damp earth below.</p><p>He thinks the man is far gone, but slowly, that head of dark brown hair moves. Erik is met with a pair of bright blue eyes, like spring, like the sea.</p><p>“Please,” says the man.</p><p>If it were not for the gaunt, pale cast over the stranger’s face, Erik would say that he looks familiar.</p><p>-</p><p>The stranger has not woken up yet. It has been days now, filled with caring for a man that tosses and turns in his sleep as if strangled. He mutters words in another language. Mixes dried blood and bitter tears.</p><p>Erik doesn’t know what the man has been through, but as he replaces the bandages again he has his suspicions.</p><p><em>“Who is this man?” </em>He silently asks.</p><p>There is no reply. The stranger, it seems, has been abandoned.</p><p>-</p><p>Weeks pass before Erik witnesses the man opens his eyes. He has been in and out of rest, barely remembering his own name. Yet, the way he stares up at Erik is something akin to being looked through. As though the man can see into the depths of his soul.</p><p>It should be disconcerting, knowing that the thousand-mile stare is all for him, but it isn’t. It isn’t at all. Being known almost seems right.</p><p>The man falls into slumber once more, but Erik is sure he will awaken sooner, rather than later.</p><p>-</p><p>It takes a day.</p><p>First, like the day before, the man opens his eyes to greet the morning light. Erik watches him, fighting the urge to feel something akin to hope. Not just yet. Not until the man blinks, as though he’s trying to concentrate.</p><p>Erik startles as that gaze becomes sharp and focused. Blue eyes stare back at him. Curious. Alive.</p><p>And the man opens his mouth to speak, as though he had been recovering for months, rather than days.</p><p>“What happened?” His voice is a soft baritone, almost melodious despite its disuse.</p><p>Before Erik can reply, the man weakly moves to sit up, already dizzied with effort.</p><p>Erik steadies him, gently. “I’m not sure. You arrived two weeks ago and you’ve been unconscious since.”</p><p>“Oh.”</p><p>The man stares down at his hands, almost confused about his own physical presence. They’re uncalloused, smooth where most men that age would have skin roughened from labor. The man could be high-class. Erik knows better.</p><p>“They call me Erik,” Erik finally says.</p><p>“Charles,” says the man, smiling.</p><p>“It’s nice to meet you, Charles.”</p><p>And the name somehow fits perfectly on Erik’s tongue. Faintly, he tastes the salty sting of ocean air. He doesn’t know why.</p><p>-</p><p>As Charles recovers, they settle into a routine quickly.</p><p>At dawn, they both wake and journey down to the river to hunt for a meal. Charles identifies edible plants. He whispers thanks to creatures before they are killed by his hand. There is something about his presence that calms the wildlife<span>—</span>like a sort of kinship.</p><p>Evidently, Charles uses his cunning where Erik uses his strength, and they manage to catch enough for the rest of the day.</p><p>They split up by morning, as Erik gathers firewood into the midday while Charles scavenges the woods for more plants. Each day at noon, without fail, they meet at the house and share what they’ve gathered in a meal.</p><p>And they talk for what feels like hours until the food grows cold. At some point, Erik tells Charles he knows how to play chess.</p><p>Charles, in turn, challenges him to a game, and Erik loses for the first time in years.</p><p>They play through the afternoon, evenly matched. Erik thinks he has never had company like this. As he stares at the board, he realizes that he and Charles have fallen into a comfortable pattern. Former strangers.</p><p>And in the evening, Charles tells him the names of stars as though they are old friends.</p><p>Erik knows the sky like a map, but this is the first time he has ever known what they were called.</p><p>-</p><p>Erik had gotten a lead on Shaw days ago, and if he does not start heading south he may be too late to follow. He has to leave. For the first time, he doesn’t want to. Charles seems to know this, watching with a mixed expression of determination and sadness as Erik finally explains the situation.</p><p>“I understand,” says Charles, sincerely. He picks at his dinner more restless than before. “I’ve taken advantage of your hospitality for long enough, anyway—”</p><p>“Charles,” Erik interrupts. “I wasn’t letting you stay this long out of common courtesy. I will come back. This is just...what I have to do is very important to me.”</p><p>“My friend,” Charles says. “I know. You don’t have to explain yourself to me.”</p><p>“This is not a final goodbye,” Erik insists.</p><p>Charles glances away, thoughtful. He watches the fire, burning low at the hearth and casting shadows against the walls. Quiet.</p><p>“You leave tomorrow at sunrise, right?” Charles finally asks.</p><p>“Yes, why?”</p><p>Rather than looking disappointed, a slow grin spreads across Charles’ face. The sort of grin he has when he’s come up with something clever.</p><p>“Then,” Charles says. “I’ll need to start packing now.”</p><p>And Erik realizes that Charles is going to be present in his life a lot longer than he had first expected. He tries to look agitated, but something tells him that Charles can see right through to his elation.</p><p>Together, they set off towards Egypt in companionable silence the next morning.</p><p>-</p><p>Under the blazing desert sun, the world wavers around them until they come upon a small settlement. For the first time in almost a day <em>water </em>is there, from where their own supply had run empty.</p><p>“You saved my life, my friend,” says Charles, smiling. “Please, you should draw from the well first.”</p><p>It’s eerie how quickly the man learns to trust Erik. He claims not to remember much about his past, likely due to the intensity of his wound. Erik doesn’t pry, and Charles has not offered to share.</p><p>“You were injured recently,” Erik reasons.</p><p>“I don’t need it as much as you do.”</p><p>Erik remembers a similarly melodic voice echo in the depths of his mind. He shakes the thought. “We both need it. If you end up with less, I’ll give you some of mine, and we’ll share it.”</p><p>He lifts his flask and dips it into the small bucket of water he had managed to draw up. He then holds a hand out, offering to fill Charles’ as well.</p><p>“Thank you,” says Charles, handing the flask over and watching the process with interest.</p><p>Erik takes the same amount of water, and somehow, miraculously, both containers are full. Perhaps they are not quite abandoned yet.</p><p>Erik takes a swig of water, letting it wet his parched lips and not caring if some of the cool liquid dripped off down his chin. It is sweltering this time of year. He’ll take what he can get. Only after he is done drinking does he glance up to see Charles staring at him with an inscrutable expression drawn on his face.</p><p>Erik hands Charles one of the two flasks.</p><p>When their hands brush past each other, Erik swears he can feel something otherworldly exuding from the tips of Charles’ fingers.</p><p>-</p><p>There are days where Erik’s arm aches for no reason at all. Times when he realizes that he had awoken in a village being told he had almost drowned when he had no memory of being at sea at all.</p><p>He tells Charles, one night, as they stare at the vast desert sky.</p><p>Charles replies that he, too, is missing something. He knows his past well. His various travels since his youth, all for the sake of studying life. But he does not remember having a family, and he does not remember the sea.</p><p>Charles places a hand on Erik’s right arm and it feels as though it was meant to be there.</p><p>-</p><p>Winter comes and Erik is still on his hunt, going so far as to trek through the Holy Roman Empire and into the north. He and Charles hide in the shadows, weaving between towns and far out of the watchful eyes of warriors who would have no qualms in slaying a Jew and his mysterious companion. To make matters more concerning, Charles <em>seems</em> Saxon, though Erik has no idea where his accent originates.</p><p>No part of Europe appreciates that sort of cultural ambiguity unless it belongs to a merchant. Charles isn’t. (And he doesn’t make a terribly convincing one when he pretends he is).</p><p>They end up huddled together, struggling to keep warm from the frigid air. The dilapidated hut they had found was almost too damp to maintain a good fire at the hearth. Erik mutters the stories of his people like whispered prayers, hoping that what little spirit he has left will sustain him.</p><p>Perhaps, he thinks, a miracle will come. Or at the very least, if he is to freeze to death, he will have shared the word of his ancestors with someone.</p><p>“Thank you for telling me this, my friend,” Charles says softly in return.</p><p>“There are days when I think I am David, with nothing but a slingshot and some stones,” says Erik.</p><p>“You’re taller.”</p><p>Erik laughs a bit. “I’d assume so. Mostly, I think what I’m trying to chase is like the constant search for a promised land where I only have faith to guide me.”</p><p>“It’s been more than forty days, too.”</p><p>“Do you think I’ll ever see it? Find justice?”</p><p>“The world is not a place of justice. It’s what the decisions of each man, woman, individual make. It is the life of the earth and the death of the sun. If a miracle is to happen, it must be made.”</p><p>Charles, ever-so-calm, presses a kiss to Erik’s temple.</p><p>The cold is gone.</p><p>-</p><p>Charles tells stories of his own past like a scribe. Like he has no memory of experiencing those events, yet he knows they’re true.</p><p>He regales the innkeeper with tales of strange creatures and forces beyond human understanding. Erik watches, enthralled. But there is a sort of sadness, hidden beneath that lilting voice.</p><p>As though Charles knows that he is forgetting. As though he has barely been holding to them in the first place.</p><p>It’s fitting that Erik is one of the last of his kind and Charles hardly had one to begin with.</p><p>-</p><p>The night before they confront Shaw arrives too soon.</p><p>Silently, they get ready to sleep, despite the restless tension filling the air. They’re so used to the presence of the other that Erik hardly notices when Charles walks back into the room without a shirt. Only when Charles turns to close the window does Erik remember the scars marring otherwise smooth skin.</p><p>“They’re quite distracting. I know,” Charles says, still facing away.</p><p>Erik averts his gaze as he realizes that he is staring. “What is it like?”</p><p>“You can find out for yourself.”</p><p>Erik sucks in a breath, but he steps closer. He reaches out. And there’s something about this that is far different from anything previous.</p><p>Charles tilts his head, beckoning. “Go on. Feel.”</p><p>It’s the first time in a year that Erik touches the twin scars cut against Charles’ shoulder blades. Symmetrical like wings. They glow in the faded lamplight, healed yet ragged all the same. A sign of the passage of a journey where they have both learned so much of the world.</p><p>The tips of Erik’s fingers trace with a gentle reverence. He can feel Charles tremble slightly beneath his hands.</p><p>“You’ve given so much away,” Erik says.</p><p>“I’ve gained so much more,” whispers Charles.</p><p>Erik leans and brushes his lips against one of the pale lines. What Charles exudes in this moment is precious. It’s power and knowledge and vulnerability given in a single breath. There’s something about it that sings of ocean waves.</p><p>“Charles,” says Erik. “You are always a welcome distraction. All of you.”</p><p>Whatever resolve Charles had before seems to crumble as he whirls around and draws Erik in until they are chest to chest. Until Erik can feel the warmth radiating off of his skin, now freckled from so much exposure to the world.</p><p>“I’ve lived centuries and have never loved like this,” Charles murmurs.</p><p>“To love is to be human,” Erik replies.</p><p>“Then it was all worth it.”</p><p>Charles smiles, brighter than sunlight. Erik is certain he has fallen as well, but he is not sure where from.</p><p>-</p><p>Erik drives a dagger through Shaw’s skull, killing him slowly and methodically.</p><p>He should be used to having blood on his hands, but there is something empty about this. Dissatisfying. Shaw has learned nothing up to his last day. Erik has nothing to look forward to after the final tally on the list of those who had hurt him.</p><p>But when he looks to see Charles, breathless and holding a hand out to help Erik up.</p><p>“Shall we?” asks Charles.</p><p>Erik takes his hand, firm, and with certainty.</p><p>And the seas calm.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. The Fallen</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Art for the fic</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Blood warning and partial nudity.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Charles knows what he has done. What their verdict is. He knows that he is helpless to stop them.</p><p>
  
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thank you so much for reading! Comments and kudos are appreciated :0</p><p>Again, special thanks to <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/hllfire"> hellfre</a>, <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Akasanata"> akasanata </a> and <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/iwillstayalive"> kindaresiliant/iwillstayalive</a>for all inspiring me for this and/or writing their own amazing works based on it!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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